Trick or Trope Ch. 01

The witch took a breath of frustration. She told the maid, "I gave Snuggles an absolute fear of vampires to keep her out of the way."

The maid nodded. Sure enough, just the sound of bats sent Snuggles awkwardly dropping to the floor, twisting her body around, and pawing furiously several times in place as her frictionless outfit denied her needed traction to get away. She transformed into a cat and dug her claws deep into the carpet to thrust her forward. Once again, she darted under the dinning room table visible through a wide arched doorway of sliding paneled doors.

Francette hoped she hadn't done anything wrong. She looked for approval and saw Wicky clearly also wondering who the visitor might be. Were Francette's bats coming back? But why would they?

"Did you forget something, Francette?"

"No. That must be the someone else. No?"

Bats carrying a fancier more lavish coffin with golden metal handles absent of any wrapping chains flew into the great hall. The same type of batmen transformed following the same lid opening ritual.

The witch tried to move down one step fighting her floor length hobble skirt. She settled on doing a little jump with both hands holding the railing. She repeated the maneuver.

Francette couldn't see into the opening coffin from her vantage point. Who was this? She wanted so badly to look.

The witch though could see the person's identity as the coffin door creaked open. "Oh my, Vamps!" said Wicky with a squeal.

A woman emerged from the coffin wearing a top hat and a long cape that was pulled back intentionally to show-off her body clad in a magician assistant's tuxedo with long mesh nylon covered legs below a short jacket and golden cinching vest. Slivers of white French cuffs showed from under the ends of her jacket sleeves. Long coattails finished off the theme of the outfit. She smiled at the witch and rapidly took several cutesy high heel baby steps over to the stairs. Both women did the Beverly Hills fake, don't mess-up my make-up cheek-to-cheek air kisses as they pretended how much they missed each other.

As the vampire and witch talked, Francette tried to make herself invisible since she had not been given permission to leave. She kept her head down, clasped her hands together on top of her little white apron supported by all the puffiness of her skirts. She peered up only with her eyes to sneak a look at both mistresses. She wondered if the vampire had just mocked the witch by doing the little hobbled steps. Surely the witch would have a retort to that, but she seemed to be blowing it off. That wasn't very authoritative for a dom. After all, everyone should play the 'part perfection - no?'

The maid remembered her role over the past year as a blood slave, the monthly herb feedings, the monthly trips locked in a coffin for transportation, and the force feeding by the most awful woman assisting Wicky. At least those sessions would stop soon, but she wasn't looking forward to working at the manor even for a week. Every visit she felt a presence somewhere in the house. Maybe there were ghosts. Maybe it was the house itself.

The maid listened to the women talking.

"No really, Wicky. It's just been too long," said Vamps.

"So sweet," the witch said switching quickly to business. "But where's your blood slave? He's due for his monthly herbs."

"Oh, it's terrible. I just couldn't stop myself. At first I thought it was because of the holiday season and all, but I think his herb dose was watered down a bit. I needed way more blood this time."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Let's fix that then."

"Well, I just needed everything he had to give me. What can I say, I required the satisfaction, but he just couldn't take it."

"Vamps, what are you saying?"

The sexy vampire snapped her fingers. One of her latex covered slaves stepped forward and kneeled, holding-up a large glass jar filled with bones and a skull.

"Vamps! He was only on loan to you."

Vamps shrugged. "I need a new one now. What can say? It shouldn't be so hard especially to help your favorite landlord - who by the way feels a little neglected."

"It's been busy. You know, the full moon coinciding with midnight on All Hallow's Eve. The last time was decades ago."

"Yes, it was back in the 1950's. Ah, the cars back then had such large trunks. Anyway, I need a blood slave with that extra good quality. Whatever secret herbs you feed them, hmmm, is just so yummy." She looked at the maid and sniffed. "She's running a little low, but I can still smell the flavor from here. I'll take her. In fact, I'll take her now." Suddenly Vamps blurred across the room.

Francette found herself in a strong hold before anyone could move. Fangs appeared. The vampire's eyes rolled back like a biting shark. The fangs sank in deep.

Francette held back her screams. She learned the hard way that showing terror only makes a vampire suck harder and take even more blood. She silently looked at the witch pleading with her eyes, 'Please stop her. Please.' Her eyes were teary, but the witch just shrugged as Vamps pushed in deeper and sucked blood for a full one Mississippi, two Mississippi, all the way to a ten Mississippi count. Francette felt so light headed. She was sure she looked pale white.

"Ok! Stop! This ones' done," Wicky said. "I need her this week." Turning to the maid, she added, "Francette, run upstairs." Looking back at the vampire she said, "Vamps, let's go to the library and we'll see what we can do. I'll see who I can bump from the delivery list."

"Excellent Wicky! That's what I want to hear."

The two women walked across the foyer. The vampire dabbed her lips with a silk handkerchief. The maid ran pass the large landing up to the second tier. She leaned over the railing barely able to hear the women below talking: "But it's Halloween," said, maybe Vamps' voice - no maybe the witch said that. She leaned over further pressing the railing into her corset. Being 'nosey' had kept her alive so far. She would have to be careful here though.

A drip of blood from her punctured neck fell to the wood floor below. The tiny splatter stopped the distant voice instantly. That meant it was Vamps who was talking and the blood drip probably sounded like a thunderous explosion to her vampire ears. Only she would have heard that, not the witch. The maid thought it best to leave. She rushed down the hallway to the back door leading to the servants' section.

*****

In the greenhouse, Pinocchia stood in her lederhosen costume. Garter belts peered out from under her red short shorts with gold embroidered edges. She played with one of the tiny garter belts getting it to attach to her mesh stockings. Her white short puffy sleeved blouse strained to hold in her boobs. She tugged at the tops of her suspenders pulling them over her shoulders. In a reflection, showing in the green house's glass, she noticed how the bright red straps crossed right over her perky nipples. She wished the costume had included a bra. She felt naked walking around without one. At least the suspenders made the costume semi-descent. She regretted thinking that - her standards had certainly gone down. Her high-heeled wood shoes, carved like Dutch shoes but sexy, clicked against the stone floor as she felt something move over her hand. By the wall, towering sunflower plants with their head sized blossoms of seeds looked at her. Had they moved? She looked at her hand. She must have brushed one. The flowers each had a pair of strange long leaves hanging down from about shoulder height. They were positioned just like human arms. Regardless, she could have sworn the flowers had been facing the windows a second ago.

"Nah," the girl said to herself as she focused back on her costume and putting on her white gloves. She thought about the costume's theme. It was slutty and she vaguely remembered wearing some slutty outfits before being forced to wear the unbearable scarecrow costume. She remembered the itchy hay and how she was frozen unable to move as she was forced to watch the world pass by - and all this while the hay itched constantly. There was no sleep. No escape. Just itching. She clicked her wood shoes together trying to think of something else. The shoes were cute: wooden high heel shoes. Who would of thought of that? Of course, Pinocchio was a wood puppet created by an Italian, not a Dutchman. Funny she should now remember folktales.

The idea of a puppet stayed in her mind until she altered the mental picture with her situation. Was she going to be made into a wood marionette? She panicked. No! No! She already put in her year. A full year! She couldn't remember it, but regardless there were also the many years semi-dormant as a scarecrow! She was supposed to be made youthful forever - oh no! A youthful girl puppet! Her heels clicked madly around the greenhouse as her mind raced with what could happen to her. It's one of those witches' tricks; one of those false promises; one of those bad three wishes of a supposedly thankful genie; a deal with the devil. She tried to remember how the bargain was phrased. A year of servitude and - and - she started to pull at the gloves, but they wouldn't budge. She pressed her high heels together and tried to wedge her feet out of the shoes. Failing that, she tugged on her undersized hat pinned in her hair. Nothing was removable.

"Crap! Crap! I don't want to be a wood puppet." She began to breath heavy. She leaned back pressing her butt against the edge of a workbench, resting a hand on her breasts trying to calm herself. It was then she felt a tiny hand rest on her shoulder.

"Ah!" she screeched turning on her heels, stepping back and back until she almost fell over a flowerpot table on the opposite side. What touched her was a sunflower, not only alive but somehow sentient. It offered comfort with its little leaf hand extending towards her. The flower turned to another one of its kind and they began to quickly sign language each other using their leafy shoulder height appendages. The first two of many sunflowers looked back, impossibly expressing a look of pity for the girl who thought she might become a wooden marionette.

"Pinocchia!" said a loud voice.

"Ah!" the frightened girl yelled again. She couldn't take any more shocks.

"Pinocchia, what are you doing?" asked the witch.

"Wicky, you're not going to leave me as a puppet forever are you?"

"What? Silly, no. The deal was one year of active work, and sure, several years inactive, but one year active none-the-less. I'll need your help this week and that's it. Tomorrow, you help me with invitations. Of course prancing around dressed like that all day - well that's your problem."

Pinocchia tried to think of loopholes. It hadn't been one year, but one active year with several frozen in hay. It hadn't been eternal beauty, but humiliation and transformation. "Is that truly, really, totally it? Help with invites and then just the party?"

"Relax, Pinocchia. I only screw over those that deserve it. Our guests include the rich, the vane, the naive and the irresistibly criminal." She took a pair of metal clippers and snipped off a nub from a tiny pine tree bonsai plant. "Pinocchio is a name partly from the Italian word for pine: 'pino.' Come sit."

The change of subject wasn't helping. Pinocchia looked at the motionless sunflowers and dragged a tall stool away from them. Its metal supports screeched across the stone floor. She sat her self down feeling the cold metal seat against the bare tops of her thighs not covered in stockings.

Wicky swayed her hips as she approached with her hobbled walk. Cloth tentacles radiated out from the bottom hem of her floor length skirt dragging dust and leaves across the floor. She reached out to caress Pinocchia's face. "So pretty you are." She pressed the fresh piece of pinewood against the human puppet's perfect button nose. "There. Tell me you trust me."

"Of course, I trust you." Pinocchia's eyes converged to look at her growing nose. The tip grew out like a hot dog. "No! No! Why!" She stood knocking the stool over as she looked cross-eyed and touched and felt and tried to verify her extended nose. It wasn't wood. It was human skin and she could feel every bit of it. It was undeniably her nose pointing out from her face.

"Anytime you lie, it grows. Not being able to lie might make this week's work a little difficult, but you'll figure out a way. That is unless you want to be a scarecrow again."

Pinocchia vigorously shook her head "no." Each move of her head swiped her nose on a wide swinging path making her even more self-conscious than the bra-less costume she had already donned. She turned her face side-to-side again but slower. It was like a tiny baseball bat attached to her face. Damn it! Why couldn't things be simple?

Wicky gave a smile of satisfaction. "Now when All Hallow's Eve ends with the dawning sun, you'll be forever youthful and beautiful as promised. The only catch is, you'll want to avoid lying for the rest of your life."

"But I thought you only did these things to people who deserve it."

"Come-on, you're going to help me trick some unsuspecting beautiful people into coming here for a charity party with my clients of vampires and monsters. Don't you think that's slightly bad?"

"Hm," she said weakly acknowledging her compliance in some horrible deceit. She touched her long tubular nose that she could wrap her hand around like an erect penis. Of course, if she hadn't been threatened with magical imprisonment she wouldn't be tricking these 'beautiful' people. She held that thought back.

"You know you deserve this, Pinocchia. Say, yes."

Pinocchia cringed not knowing what would happen next. "Yes." Nothing changed.

"Yes, what?"

Crap! She built-up the nerve to say the full thought. "Yes, I think I deserve this." Another spurt grew making her nose almost twice as long and twice as wide. "How do I undo this? Come on!"

"Relax. All you have to do is have sex." The witch stood with her back to the sunflowers. "Undo me girls."

The sunflowers frantically opened the witch's gown in the back undoing button after button. Their leaves pulled and popped the black beads down her spine from her neck to her waist and over her butt. Once they helped the witch extract her arms from the snug long sleeves, enough leeway was gained to let the black material freely slide off and fall to the floor. Underneath, she wore heels and a leather corset dress that wrapped her body so tightly it fused her legs together down to her ankles. The sunflowers worked harder in the back to loosen laces running the length of the hard shell. As the encasement pulled free, the witch rubbed her bare breasts and shimmied out of her panties, garters, and stockings that were hidden underneath. The sunflower leaves pulled the sexy accessories down her legs. "It's been a while since I had something unique to play with. Of course, you can't deliver invitations to humans with a nose like that now can you?"

Pinocchia thought hard. It had to be a simple statement of fact. "No." She gave a sigh of relief when her nose didn't grow any further.

"Well," said the witch holding out her arms like she was expecting a warm hug.

"Well, what?"

The witch laughed apparently happy with her freedom from her dress. She was excited to take a few steps and stretch her legs. She giggled when she kneeled down to pick-up the potato sack stuffed with hay. Then she looked more sinister and threw it on the floor at the puppet girl's feet. "For your knees, darling. I'm going to make you work for it."

"I don't understand. What?"

"Fuck me with that thing, silly."

As the witch leaned back against a forest of sunflowers, the leafy hands lifted the women up and splayed her long legs. It became clear to Pinocchia, who knew it was this or the garden: this or years of itching as if ants were crawling everywhere. She kneeled onto the soft sack, and with a short crawl, she scooted the sack over to her mistress and looked up.

The sunflowers raised Wicky a couple inches off the floor and pulled away the stockings.

Pinocchia tried to help but the sunflowers were already fast and efficient. One sunflower leaned down and handed her the panties and stockings. She looked at them and thought they should probably be kept somewhere clean, so she stuffed them between her boobs and aimed her long nose upwards, grabbed the backs of her mistress's thighs to get a good stable base as she probed her mistress's crotch finding the right place to slowly push her long sausage-shaped nose deep inside.

"Nice," said the witch rolling her head back and closing her eyes. "It's been a while since I've been able to get out of this damned dress. Wait, Pinocchia." Her hips turned slightly. "Yes right there. Keep going. Faster. It's going to be a work-out for you."

Tiny high pitched shrieks came form the chorus of sunflowers behind the witch. The crowd of sunflower-seeded faces turned their flower petal heads to kiss each other. A potted plant orgy began as the sunflowers celebrated their freedom from their dried shriveled hibernation as withered stalks and now begged to feed off the sexual act before them. Their leaves wrapped around the witch's body as she leaned further back into the tall plants. She moaned enjoying the mosh pit and the blissful thrusting from her lovemaking marionette.